Do you remember?
by Scarfen
Summary: Naomi looks back at a turning point in her and Emily's relationship. One shot


Do you remember that time when we camping in the lake district? You remember when we were the only tent pitched in that bloody field because we were the only people in the county that was unaware of the thunder and lightening that was due to hit the evening we got there, if didn't half fucking hit didn't it babe? I remember that night so well, everytime I close my eyes and think its like stepping right back into that memory. I laugh everytime as I watch both of us looking like drowned rats as I grumbled and moaned about the faulty weather updates that I had been told which turned out to be the weeks previous. And then there was you just sitting there with the most geogrous smile on your face as you absorbed with those tantalizing brown eyes, the bolts of lightening that sparked flashes of light to illuminate our faces. Do you remember when you got so sick of my grumbleing self that you slammed your lips against mine just to shut me up? You trapped me with your passion that you shocked right through to my core. Do remember when we made love? Screaming against the thunder as we flew over the edge time after time until eventually we subcombed to our sense and let our heavy lids droop finally, tangled within eachothers warm, beating bodies. Do you remember that?

Things were pretty rough then, huh? You were so desperate to just stay at home that bank holiday, just hang around in our one bedroom, panic room sized London flat and normally I would've have been more than happy to oblige but things were different then, the circumstances weren't quite the norm, then again when has anything we've done been normal? But never the less these odd circumstances found us trudgeing up the M6 in Kerion's car which I begged him to let us borrow, which probably wasn't worth the hassle as walking would've been quicker and a lot healthier when looking at the fumes that streamed from the exhaust, but we still made that five hour trip which took us eight hours in Kerion's shit hole of a car. The entire eight hours was spent us argueing about how we could've been doing something productive at home like you marking your students essays, students who had study leave for their a levels in a weeks time, and how I could've actually finished painting the flat that had only half a room decorated since we moved in six months ago. We didn't even noticed the sky getting darker and darker the further north we went, we were so in eachother faces, weren't we? We were still at when we arrived in the field that was suppose to be a fully functioning campsite, it didn't have a bloody toliet, the closest thing to cilvilisation was the cockerel that pecked around the field who wouldn't shut the fuck up for more than five minutes. I remember you kept saying to me

'oh, now you finally do something that I want to do. Yeah, let's go to the lake district camping, something that Emily's always wanted us to do, at a time when we have no shitting time!' and then I'd reply with something like

'Next time I won't fucking bother then will I? I'm trying to cheer you the fuck up and you throw it back in my face. Sorry Emily, sorry for being nice!'. I don't know how we managed to put a tent up in all that. The only time we didn't have a screaming match was when we were eating our cold, soggy chips that I went to go and get and came back an hour and a half later after forgetting the way back to the campsite, that started another arguement.

Then the thunder came shortly followed by the lightening. I didn't want to say it at the time but I was terrified, partly due to the lightening but mostly because I thought this was it. When we got back to London the first thing you were going to do was pack a bag and leave. I remember sitting there ranting to myself about John, a guy from the office who told me the weather for this weekend was suppose to be gorgeous and perfect for a romantic get away, how fucking wrong he was maybe that's why he was fired last week. I remember while ranting that, all that was going through my head was, this is it, it's over. All these years of love and loss just to love again gone in a flash, gone because of some weekend from hell in the sodding Lake District. But then I realised that all this has nothing to do with the home of cumberland sausage or it's crappy weather, it was just the final trigger. For months we had been moving further and further apart from eachother without even realising it, bills went un paid, work over took, romance was left back in our teens and all that was let was this spite for one another because even though we loved eachother we ended dragging one another into this situation. We stopped leaving little messages for eachother on the chalk board, or sticky notes which you always stuck to my forehead while I slept before you headed out to work. We stopped going out with eachother, resulting in a split down our friendship group. We stopped making love, we stopped kissing, stopped holding hands as we mindlessly sauntered down London's south bank on Sunday afternoons, we stopped smiling, we just stopped eachother. I had never been so scared in all my life as I thought about everything I was going to lose, everything that made me who I am today. I remember thinking without that all there is just a body with some blonde hair and a pair of blue eyes, that's it. I wouldn't be able to feel and all I could think was what would be the point if that's all that will be left.

It wasn't till I felt your lips crash against my own that all those thoughts went, everything went, I just went blank. You pulled back and when I saw fire in those chocolate orbs, when the bolts of lightening highlighted your ruby smile and your porcelin cheeks was when my mind went back, it flew back to the old Naomi, the student Naomi that would take every chance she got to hold you, kiss you, just be with you. I laid you gently down on the un even floor, kissed your lips, your cheeks, your eyes, your neck, god how I had missed your neck, how I had missed your skin. Slowly peeling eachother of our fabric shells that once witnessed the anger we drove eachother to, now being shredded to the skin that held the truth, the foundations of us. We took our time, with each peice of clothing we'd explore, reuniteing ourselves with the familar contours and landscape of eachother's bodies, it had been far too long. Not even the beating of nature's wrath could pierce our ever expanding walls that held within somthing so beautiful, so maginificent that we ended up not even touching it because it was so delicate. But now, for the first time in too long we realised how are we to enjoy such happiness if we do not open ourselves up to it? I felt home as you crowded around me, as I heard you scream, thrive and thrash around my touch. When I felt your tears, the warm droplets dripped down my shoulder I held on tighter, I kissed harder, we fell deeper. The final trickles of the night remained as you rested on my chest as I swept your hair away from you gracful features and kissed your cherry locks.

The next day we left, we trudged back down the M6 and then onto the M1, it still took eight hours but we smiled, everytime we caught eachothers eyes we'd beam, we held each others hand apart from when I had to change gear even then your hand was on top of mine, keeping it living. When we got home, back to the busy London streets, back to our one bedroom palace we didn't even un pack. I walked into the cramped kitchen to only have your legs wrapped round my waste a minute later with your hands running through my hair while you latched onto my welcoming lips as we guided each other to the bedroom, our bedroom. No essays were looked at that weekend and the walls still remained that diguisting vomit colour.

The next friday we went out, the rest were surprised when we sent out the message but they still came, we could tell they were eager to asked what had changed but they didn't so we didn't answer just continued to hold hands, joke, laugh, be happy. We staggered from club until Katie threw up on a bouncers shoes and Cook punched him in the face when he told us to keep walking, just like old times. We eventually found ourselves back at ours. Katie at the foot of our bed making sure to tell us not to go off lezzer shagging when she was a sleep, Freddie and Effy on the sofa, JJ on our living room floor, Panad dropped out on the kitchen table so Thomas followed and Cooks fog horn snores could be heard throughout the entire flat from the bathroom where he had passed out on the toilet. I couldn't stop grinning because I couldn't think of anywhere else in the world I wanted to be, I had my friends, I had my small, slightly dysfunctional family but ofcourse I had Emily, my Emily.

We had six months of bliss but it had to end. A sunny Thurday afternoon was when I got the call, a simple phone call which I expected just to be another story of boredem from Mrs Phillips who had already called the paper five times in the past week to enquire about getting her news published in the local paper, a riveting story which entailed her desperate want to get her young, guitarist neighbour evicted from the building from the apparent intolerable noise coming from his apartment that was distressing her and her many cats. But when I heard your name in the same sentence as Guy's and St Thomas hospital and head on collision I was out the door and on the next bus before the womanat the other end could even finish her sentence.

And that's where I find myself now. At your bedside holding your cold hand for dear life as I tell you stories of our past, of us, anything to get through to the Emily that I know is underneath the mass of needles, drips and mono tone bleeps of life support machines. They told me the guy driving that obnoxious jaguar was drunk when slammed into the bus that had my girl, my dear Emily on it. She along with three others now hooked up to machines and other over complicated, callous equipment which made her look so small, so fucking helpless. I've cried, I've screamed, I've vowed to kill the heartless bastard who did this but I still sit here because I fear that if I were to look away that would be the last time I'd see my darling girl alive. So I choose to stay and tell stories of our past whether they be good or bad because I know she can hear, I know when she hears our story she has another page of reasons to fight the battle.

So Emily, do you remember when...?


End file.
